


Until the Last Petal Falls

by Iwouldwrite1000fics



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 08:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20654456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwouldwrite1000fics/pseuds/Iwouldwrite1000fics
Summary: Crowley is a demon.  It’s in his job description to tempt people to things they shouldn’t want.  When a demon is tempted to something they shouldn’t want though there are severe consequences.





	Until the Last Petal Falls

The year was 1967, September 15 to be exact. Star Trek had just opened its second season with a human and a Vulcan talking awkwardly about biology and feelings. While across the pond an angel and a demon were talking awkwardly in a Bentley, trying their best to make it not about feelings.

They were failing.

“Should I say thank you?”

“Better not.”

“Can I drop you anywhere?”

“No, thank you. Oh, don’t look so disappointed. Perhaps one day we could I don’t know go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz.”

“I’ll give you a lift anywhere you want to go.” 

“You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

He got out of the Bentley and Crowley was left to stare at the tartan container full of his insurance.

***

The drive back to his flat was slow, which meant Crowley actually did the speed limit and nothing more. He carefully put the holy water away behind his sketch of the Mona Lisa. He stared at the picture reminded of a time it wasn’t so very long ago was it? 

_“And what does your friend think?”_

_“Oh he’s not my friend we’ve never meet before. We don’t know each other.”_

A part of Crowley knew that Aziraphale had said that as a really bad cover. He was always concerned about what Hell would do if they found out about them. 

And yet when he’d asked for this, wanting to have protection in case it all went wrong…

_“Do you know what trouble I’d be in if they knew I’d been fraternizing.”_

It seemed Heaven still mattered more to the angel. He was just someone to fraternize with on occasion.

_“So all this is your demonic work.”_

_“I should have known. Of course! These people are working for you.”_

Well Aziraphale always was willing to assume the worst of him even after all this time.

Something seemed to catch in his throat and Crowley coughed hard. He felt that something hit the palm of his hand and pulled it away to see small flower petals.

Crowley blinked then shut his eyes hard and opened them again. Hoping that what he was seeing wasn’t really there. Willing them not to be real, but they were real and they stayed there, mocking him until he threw them in the bin.

Well a double damned demon that was new.

Crowley listlessly wandered the flat looking for something to distract him and finding nothing threw himself into his throne in frustration. 

Really this showed up now?! Not at Eden, not during their fight the first time he asked for holy water over a century ago, now! He glared at the sketch as if he could bore holes into, to the thermos behind it. Aziraphale responded in his love language didn’t that count for anything!? Crowley’s response was a niggling tickle in the back of his throat and some more petals for his troubles.

_“You go too fast for me.”_

Crowley sighed. They clearly weren’t on the same page. At this rate they never would be.

And really why should they be? Just because he felt a certain way didn’t mean Aziraphale had to. No one was required to reciprocate anyone else’s feelings. There were lots of types of love beside romantic and who made that the pinnacle of things anyway?

Surprisingly though the disease seemed to agree with him. For while the heaviness in his chest never quite went away, the petals never got any worse in terms of volume or look either. There might be a bit of blood after a night of dinner and drinking, but no full flowers and nothing extra just tulips, roses, and the occasional string of ivy.

***

And so the years went by, until Armageddon had to throw a wrench into Crowley’s chronic, but perfectly managed thank you very much, illness.

“Even if I knew where the anti-christ was I wouldn’t tell you we’re on opposite sides!”

“We’re on our side!”

“There is no our side, Crowley! Not anymore. It’s over.”

Crowley stepped back, wounded. In all their years Aziraphale had never called off the Arrangement. He knew Aziraphale didn’t love him that much was obvious, but to deny even their basic friendship. To throw away even their working relationship, it was too much. 

“Have a nice doomsday.”

Crowley walked away and Aziraphale couldn’t bear to watch him go. Good thing too as he missed Crowley tensing, coughing harshly, and then collapsing to his knees and half-dragging himself into the shrubbery. 

His lungs burned as they never had before and Crowley found himself doubled over behind the nearest bush gasping for air in between the petals that would just not stop coming. When the fit finally passed Crowley wiped his eyes dry and he looked down to see the half formed flowers that were utterly soaked with blood.

Welcome to the end times indeed.

***

By the following Sunday though, through sheer dumb luck, the world was still turning.

“Swap back then.”

They switched back and Crowley took a moment to settle in to the feeling of his chest being too constricted once more, and the tartan collar being too hot. He wondered idly if the hellfire would have burned it all away if he had been in his own body. But no even if it would have Crowley had no desire to have the feelings that caused the flowers to bloom in the first place disappear too. He had seen what happened to those who had tried. Their eyes were empty shells. Everything about them was really, they became just husks of their former selves, he shivered at the thought.

In Crowley’s mind it was better to feel something than nothing at all.

“I asked for a rubber duck. I made the archangel Michael miracle me a towel.”

Crowley laughed loudly.

No he wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world. After all when the choice was between Aziraphale and the world he had been content to drown himself in a bar rather than face it without him. Crowley wouldn’t have till the end of the world now he knew that. Just till the end of his and that would be enough, he would_ make _it be enough.

“Can I tempt you to a spot of lunch?”

“Temptation accomplished.”

As they went to the Ritz Aziraphale kept a pace behind Crowley, watching him closely. He was worried for his friend. Being in his body he noticed that his lungs seemed full. His skin was warmer than he’d expected almost feverish. He hoped Crowley wasn’t coming down with something.

***

“Hey, this is Anthony Crowley. You know what to do, do it with style.”

Aziraphale put down the phone without bothering to leave a message. He’d already left five. The simple fact was Crowley wasn’t answering his phone or his mobile. It wasn’t like Aziraphale expected him to be at his beck and call, but ever since the Apocalypse that wasn’t Crowley seemed content to do just that. He had jumped at the chance to do anything together, whether it was a meal, a stage show, or some random movie festival he had spotted a poster for at Saint James Park one day. Now there was only silence.

It left Aziraphale with a growing feeling of terror low in his stomach that they, be it Heaven or Hell, had come for him again.

He locked up the bookshop, making sure the new fire alarm was working and went to Crowley’s flat.

He didn’t bother to knock, if Crowley didn’t answer his phone he certainly wouldn’t answer the door. With a quick miracle Aziraphale pushed the door open and found the place dark.

“Crowley?”

No response the flat was quiet. 

There were also no signs of a struggle. No scorch marks, no ransom notes, no puddles of holy water. The plants in the sunroom were wilted but still a vibrant green. If Crowley was gone it hadn’t been for very long.

Aziraphale moved towards the bedroom and inside he found the covers on the bed tossed back, a soft light coming from the master bath, and a familiar smell hitting his nose.

He had been in enough hospitals over the centuries to remember the distinct scent of illness.

He hurried towards the bathroom, spotting a trail of droplets leading to it, was that blood? Now thoroughly panicked he pushed open the door fully and found Crowley collapsed on the floor next to the sink, unmoving.

“Crowley!”

His hand was on his shoulder and just as suddenly Aziraphale pulled it away, shocked at the amount of heat.

He was burning hot the way not even a demon should be.

It was then he saw what was in the sink. It was completely full of flower petals half shaped into forget me nots, acadia, and daffodils.

There was a moan from the floor as Crowley curled in on himself and coughed wetly, full geraniums blooms falling from his mouth. Aziraphale cupped his hand over his own mouth afraid he too might be sick at the sight of it.

“Crowley, what is it? How can I help?” He finally managed to ask.

Crowley looked up, but said nothing, and Aziraphale could tell why. His eyes were blown out full yellow, fever bright and seeing nothing, then they fluttered closed again and Aziraphale grabbed onto him before his head hit the floor.

“Don’t worry, Crowley, I’ve got you.”

The angel concentrated and in an instant they were both back at the bookshop.

Selfish he supposed to want the demon close.

Still he got Crowley in bed, covering him up tightly against the fever chills and putting a cool cloth on his forehead to try and combat the fever itself. After a moment’s thought he miracled a large basin on the floor next to the bed as well. 

Then Aziraphale sat down chewing his lip as he worked to process what he had just seen. Purging of flowers he had never heard of such a thing. Clearly it had a supernatural cause, occult most likely, possibly a delayed punishment from Hell. He was ethereal he had had no knowledge of the affliction Crowley was suffering from and thus no way to treat it; if there even was a way. Crowley was the expert in that area and it wasn’t like he could just look up occultists in the phonebook- occultist that was it! Yes, there was one other person who might be able to help. 

“I’ll be right back, Crowley.”

He went for the phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Tadfield oh four six triple six Arthur Young here.”

“Yes, Mr. Young, it’s Mr. Fell I’m so sorry to bother you, but I was just wondering if I could speak to Adam?”

“Well it’s passed his bedtime so I know he’s still up, one moment.”

Even with the direness of the situation Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile as his voice came on the line.

“Hi, Mr. Fell.”

“Hello, Adam, I was wondering if you had Anathema’s number? It’s dreadfully important that I contact her.”

“Yeah, I do, but she’s away. Went to visit her family said she be back on Thursday.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if Crowley would survive until Thursday.

“I-I see.”

“But maybe I could help you.”

“Well that’s very kind of you, dear boy, but I’m afraid this is a matter of occult forces. And something quite obscure at that I mean in all my time even I’ve never heard of someone coughing up flowers-” 

“Oh, I know that it’s Hanahaki disease.”

“Hana-what?”

“Hanahaki disease I read about in a manga Wensleydale let me borrow last week. All about a girl dealing with unrequited love.“

“Unrequited love?” That was certainly not the cause he was expecting for Crowley’s illness.

“Yeah, seems silly to me. I mean no one should be punished just for loving someone. I love Dog and he doesn’t love me quite the same way, but it works you know. Oh, did I tell you I taught him to do a backflip the other day-”

Aziraphale interrupted before Adam could get too far off track. “Yes, lovely, but this manga I don’t suppose it mentioned a cure?”

“Well there are two. The best one is for the one they love to return those feelings so it’s just love. Or you could remove the flowers, but that removes the love too.”

“And if neither option is possible?”

“They die.”

“All right, thank you.”

Before he could ask anything else he heard a hacking cough from upstairs.

“Adam, I’ve got to go, but thank you very much again you’ve been most helpful.”

Aziraphale rushed back upstairs to find Crowley hunched over the side of the bed the basin already overflowing, and every petal was stained black with blood.

“It’ll be all right, Crowley, I’m right here.”

“S-sorry.”

There was another bout of coughing this time all purple hyacinth and lilacs.

He didn’t know who Crowley had fallen for, but Heaven, at least the healing department would never turn away someone in need. It simply was not done.

“Crowley, I know what’s wrong with you. I can contact Heaven a healer can come here the flowers can be removed-”

“No!”

The cry was so strong in his state Aziraphale was taken aback by the force of it, and the tight hold Crowley now had on his wrist.

“W-why not?”

“C-Can’t lose you, Angel. I would-would rather die than lose you.”

Lose him why ever would he-

And then in an instant it all became clear. If you removed the flowers you removed the love too.

Crowley loved him.

Crowley leaned over the bed and the fit started again. Aster, bluebells, and roses, so many roses of every colour imaginable all of it pouring out of him.

Aziraphale was numb at the state Crowley had worked himself into all over him and it wasn’t even necessary. Of course he loved Crowley. He’d known that since the night the demon had saved his precious books in that church. Crowley had to know he cared too, didn’t he?

As the flowers kept coming and Aziraphale could do little more than try and keep Crowley comfortable through it he thought back on all their years together and the less than kind words he had spoken.

_“We may have both started off as angels but you are Fallen.”_

_“You’re the demon I’m the nice one.”_

Who was the one hiding children in the ark?

_“If you kill him then the world gets a reprieve and heaven does not have blood on its hands.”_

Aziraphale looked at his hands. At the black stained fingertips as he pulled the flowers away and tried to keep Crowley from choking.

Well he did now.

The fit finally stopped, seemingly out of pure exhaustion more than anything. Crowley’s body sank down on the pillows his breath coming in wheezing gasps, his skin clammy and far too pale. Aziraphale had never seen him so fragile and it was all his fault. Crowley had suffered with this alone for who knew how long and he’d never noticed until it was too late.

_“Well I am a great deal holier than thou that’s the whole point.”_

Because he wasn’t ready to tell Heaven to take a running jump.

_“You can’t expect me to do the dirty work.”_

_“We’re not friends. We are an angel and a demon. We have nothing what so ever in common.”_

Just dinners, drinking, theatre, and feeding the ducks so many things that they would never do again.

_“I don’t even like you.”_

He had never even apologized for that.

Was it any wonder Crowley thought his love was unwanted?

“Oh, Crowley.”

Throwing all caution and thought to the wind Aziraphale gathered him up in his arms.

“I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know if it will help now, but if it’s my love you need, my dear, you have it. All of it, all of me.”

Crowley didn’t answer, the disease having dragged him back to the realm of unconsciousness. Still Aziraphale held him close letting his tears disappear into Crowley’s damp hair.

“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered.

Nothing changed immediately, but Crowley was still there still breathing so Aziraphale would count his blessings.

***

The night passed slowly. Aziraphale worked to keep Crowley as comfortable as he could. There were no more fits just a few stray petals that seemed, drier than before. Not that they didn’t have flicks of blood on them, they did, but it was as if they had been left in a vase for a week or pressed in a scrapbook.

He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.

The early promise of dawn was just beginning to show when Crowley’s fever broke. Hope flared up hard then and Aziraphale didn’t dare temper it down, because there should be no way that wasn’t a sign of recovery. He was so sure in fact that he stepped out to make tea for both of them. When he returned he found Crowley awake and trying to stagger out of bed, one hand over his mouth.

Aziraphale supported him to the bathroom and rubbed his back as the demon white knuckled the sink. The volume of flowers was huge, but they were dry, paper thin, they crushed each other on impact until the sink resembled a giant potpourri bowl.

“It’s all right I’ve got you just get them all up.”

Eventually the coughing stopped and Crowley went limp as his knees gave out, but Aziraphale was easily able to hold his weight, because he knew for certain that everything was going to be okay. 

The entire room reeked of the ambrosias after all.

Clearing away the mess with a quick miracle Aziraphale sat Crowley down on the edge of the tub and began gently cleaning him up, sponging off the sweat and dried blood, before snapping Crowley into the warmest pajamas he could miracle up.

Keeping a tight hold on the demon he got him back to bed. Tucking him and adjusting the pillows and Crowley was just woozy enough not to question it. He even managed a few sips of the tea. Setting the mug down Aziraphale carefully sat down beside Crowley, and in a bold move reached out and interlaced their fingers together.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Better,” Crowley answered weakly, as he still worked to adjust to it all. Staring at the room for a while assessing himself and it before finding his voice again.

“Angel, I have a really stupid question.”

Aziraphale merely nodded for him to continue.

“What the hell am I doing here?”

“I found you at your flat. I guess I panicked a bit and brought you here to try and treat you.”

Crowley took a few deep breaths and tried to remember the last time he could breathe so easily.

“You didn’t just treat it you cured it, how?” 

“Adam Young.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I called him hoping to get Anathema. She’s away, but he knew all about it. Read about it in a manga of all things. Seems this made it into their folklore somehow. He called it Hanahaki disease.”

“Hmm, didn’t know it had a name.”

“You knew what it was?”

“I’ve seen it happen to others. Not in a long time though. Mostly right after the Fall. I think some of them couldn’t deal with what-who they’d lost.”

Aziraphale tightened their fingers together.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were so sick, Crowley, and that I was the cause of all of it?”

Crowley looked down at their hands, a part of him knowing that Aziraphale reciprocated his feelings, because that’s what the ambrosias meant. Still the part of him that had pined for this for so long worried that his angel had found some other cure and things would to go back to the way they’d always been.

“You know that movie with the enchanted rose and the singing candlestick?”

“Of course it’s only your favourite film from that Walter Disney fellow-”

Crowley waved him off. “Not the point, point is like that you can’t force anything.”

“Force things?”

“I know you, Aziraphale, if I told you what was wrong you’d want to fix it. You’d force your feelings, and it wouldn’t have worked, it has to be genuine.”

“Why would I force anything? I’ve always cared, Crowley.”

“I know that. You just don’t care for me the way I’ve always cared for you that’s why this happened. I mean you can sense love. So you’ve known about my feelings for forever so I…” 

Crowley trailed off at Aziraphale’s look of utter confusion.

“Haven’t you known?”

“Well I’ve known for myself I just didn’t want to admit it. Until you…” he bit his lip, the memories of the night before still too fresh.

“I what?”

“Said that you would rather die than lose me.”

Crowley clasped his other hand over their fingers.

“Still true.”

Aziraphale nodded his eyes wet and glassy.

“Look, Aziraphale, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this, but after all this time I didn’t think you’d ever return my feelings so I wanted to enjoy what I had for as long as I could. And if you knew you cared why did you never say anything?”

“Because I wasn’t ready and I know you knew that that’s why you always wanted me to realize we were on our own side. Then when I finally did and still said nothing well…sometimes it’s too easy for beings like us to think they’ll be a next time, until there isn’t.”

“Well there’s a next time now and I owe it all to you and the anti-christ I suppose.”

Crowley pulled Aziraphale close to him gently, still afraid of going too fast too quickly, but his angel allowed it and pressed his face against his shoulder. A few tears escaping into the fabric of his shirt. It was silent as both of them took in their new normal. After a moment though Aziraphale pulled away and frowned.

It didn’t seem any different.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure. Because you’re right I can sense love and so this should be glorious right now and it isn’t.”

“I love you, Angel, have for years and you’re telling you can’t sense any of it?”

Aziraphale concentrated, letting what was normally background noise fill the world completely. Soft trails wound their way around the shop. Of friendships from passersby on the street, love of books, and of wine, and the world at large. 

Most importantly though he focused on the soft pink aura that now surrounded them.

“You never noticed this before?” Crowley asked, waving his hand in the mist.

“There’s never been anything to notice I suppose. I mean it’s always been like that…” Aziraphale trailed off as he fully realized what that meant. “No, Crowley, you haven’t-you couldn’t not-not since the garden!?”

He looked down and shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“But we barely knew each other.”

Crowley blushed causing Aziraphale to palm his hand against his forehead thinking the fever had returned and the just made him blush harder.

“You showed compassion. Defined the Almighty to do what was right. I liked that.”

“Didn’t quite turn out though did it?”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

No he certainly was not Aziraphale thought, as he thumbed the corner of Crowley’s mouth, where some of the blood stains were still clinging.

“Please tell me you haven’t had this since then? Oh, how could I have not seen it?”

“No, no, Angel, this is recent. Well recent for us anyway since 67-1967 that is.”

Aziraphale sat back at that answer and then asked the same question Crowley had asked then.

“Why?”

“You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

So he had known it wasn’t about his driving.

Aziraphale sighed. “I meant it too. We’re so different, Crowley, and not the angel and the demon thing I mean you’re always ready to move forward to the next big thing, hairstyles, clothing any kind of trend. So willing to let go of what was and I’m not. When I find things I love I hold on tight to them. Keep everything long after it’s going out of style and I just…”

“Just what?”

“I just thought that if we moved on from what we’ve always been that it would so much, too much. You and I have seen enough romances crumble over the centuries, some enough to ruin countless lives. I guess like you I wanted to just enjoy what we had, because if we changed and you didn’t like it, didn’t like me. I-I didn’t want to be one more thing you let go of.”

Crowley smiled and began running his fingers gently along Aziraphale’s cheek.

“When have I ever let go of you, Angel?”

He never had and the angel knew it. Crowley was the one ready to throw the whole world away and run off to Alpha Centauri so long as he was there after all.

“Never, my dear,” he answered, but then was reminded of everything running through his mind during the night. “But you shouldn’t put me up on a pedestal like this you know.” 

“Why not? Holier than thou aren’t you?” he asked playfully.

“Please don’t say that.”

Crowley frowned that was not the reaction he’d expected. “Aziraphale?”

“I’ve said horrible things to you over the years, Crowley. Why would you want someone who treated you so terribly?”

“Hey, I’m a demon and you wanted to believe in innate goodness nothing wrong with that.”

“Expect that it hurt you. It would have killed you.”

“Won’t deny that it hurt sometimes, lots of sometimes, but my feelings are my own, Aziraphale, you aren’t responsible for them. We just weren’t on the same wave length. I mean they are lots of types of love I think that’s why I was all right for so long. We cared just in different ways. Even though it didn’t match it still worked it’s…ineffable.”

Aziraphale managed a small chuckle at that.

Crowley inched forward slightly letting their foreheads rest together, enjoying their new intimacy before the exhaustion that was slowly creeping up overtook him. “Aziraphale, I really thought you could sense it. I thought you knew how I felt and I thought that if there was a time you were ready to reciprocate fully you’d tell me.”

“I am.”

Crowley sank back on the pillows trying to remind himself that this was reality and not some lingering fever dream. He had imagined this scenario a lot over the centuries. Of what a confession might look like, what he imagined it should look like. He certainly hadn’t imagined being laid up in bed feeling like his whole body was made of jelly.

“Well I might not be up for anything like picnics or dinner at the Ritz at the moment, but-”

He was cut off and Aziraphale stretched fully on the bed with him and cuddled close to his side.

“This-this is good too.”

“You’ll let me know if you need anything?”

“Always,” Crowley murmured, and let his eyes slowly drift closed.

The End


End file.
